Head bowed so the television cameras could not sneak an up-close, and a tissue in his hand to blot the tears behind those thick-rimmed glasses, Von Miller sat there for a minute, then another, then a handful more. He had started crying before Roger ("I hear ya") Goodell announced the second pick of the 2011 NFL Draft, and by the time Miller rose, his cheeks were stained and his voice was hoarse.

This was an interesting choice for the Denver Broncos in ways that stretch well beyond the obvious. Denver has so many holes and so many needs, the triumvirate doing the selecting could have used an Ouija board and not gone wrong as long as the player was somewhere in Radio City Music Hall Thursday night, waiting to see which team now owned him.

After Carolina did the obvious and chose Cam Newton with the top pick, Miller's phone remained dark for what to him felt like an eternity. Then he saw the 303 area code buzz on his father's cell, Broncos general manager Brian Xanders on the other end, and a lowlight reel began to run through Miller's head. It was of all the folks who told him he couldn't do this, he wouldn't do that, so he might as well quit trying.

"I just had flashbacks to all the hard work that I've been putting in ever since little league football, all the people who told me, 'No,' and every time that everybody said I couldn't do it," Miller said, once the tears had dried and after he had bear-hugged commissioner Goodell. "I just had that flashback. I was just extremely anxious for my opportunity to go up to the league and prove myself."

Mired in mediocrity and stung by off-the-field issues last season, and with a defense dragging its knuckles in the bottom of every category, the Broncos were attracted to Miller's double-digit sacks, his ferociousness off the edge, his lightning-quick first step off the snap. They believe he'll start immediately -- assuming the immediate doesn't dissipate in Federal court -- as a strong linebacker in Denver's new 4-3 defense.

"He's a big playmaker and a leader who is explosive on the defensive side of the ball," coach John Fox said in a statement. "It's crucial in this league to be able to rush the passer, and Von adds that dimension to our defense.

He's also able to drop back into pass coverage. There's no doubt that his versatility is going to make us a better football team."

But there's another, equally intriguing side to Miller: he's one of the 10 plaintiffs in the class-action lawsuit against the NFL, a league he wasn't a part of until Goodell announced Denver's pick. It took Miller about three weeks to decide if he wanted to make the bold and risky move of adding his name to the players' cause, and ultimately he decided he'd rather be a voice in the on-going dispute than watch silently from the sidelines.

Miller's presence in the lawsuit allows the players to challenge a rookie wage scale, something the owners desperately want. The players contend it's an antitrust violation for the league or teams to make any pay restriction on income given to incoming rookies. But beyond all the legal jargon, suing your prospective employer before they actually hire you is generally not considered to be wise.

There was plenty of pre-draft speculation that Miller's involvement as the only college player in the labor dispute might hurt his standing, though Miller's philosophical outlook superseded any concern. He figured it's impossible to get possessive over something he never had, and if his stock dropped so be it, Que Sera Sera.

Here's where the marriage between Miller and the Broncos gets fascinating:

In 1983, when all of Thursday's spit-shinned, red carpet-walking specimens weren't even twinkles in their parents' eyes, there came a fair-haired golden boy with a toothy smile and magical arm who manipulated the NFL Draft like a marionette.

The Baltimore Colts chose John Elway, a star in both football and baseball at Stanford University, as the first overall pick. Problem was, Elway, stubborn and brainy, had no desire to play for the Colts, who weren't exactly playoff-ready, or for Frank Kush, a coach who made drill sergeants look like wallflowers.

So like any savvy Stanford grad who'd been taught he was more than chattel, Elway, with two summers of minor league ball with the New York Yankees under his belt, threatened to take his skills to the Bronx full-time. It was a stunning, controversial and admirable stand for a 23-year-old, and it changed the way the NFL would ultimately do business. Robert Irsay, the Colts owner, eventually acquiesced to Elway's demands, trading his rights to the Denver Broncos.

And you know the rest of that story.

There was The Drive, the inability to win Super Bowls until he and the Broncos won two, the no-brainer induction into the Pro Football Hall of Fame, the time when he was Cartman's dream father in South Park, his de facto role as King of Colorado. Elway's still the face of the Broncos, only now he's executive vice president of football operations, and staring down a whole different kind of pressure.

In the first of the John Elway-supervised drafts, the Broncos believe they got in Miller a "can't-miss" player, the way Elway was once considered a "can't-miss" QB. Miller's also a model citizen, religious and whip smart; his character and background check were found to be so blemish-free, the Broncos weren't concerned Miller might be a rabble rouser.

Then again, Elway, the original rabble rouser, might have taken an extra shine to Miller because of the kid's gutsy decision to add his name and voice to the labor fight.

The NFL went back to limited business Friday, an opportune time considering Goodell was at risk of being chased with pitchforks by an angry, lubed-up Radio City crowd that had plenty of down time before booing the Jets' selection, an annual tradition. Goodell must have told the fans he heard them a hundred times, but the bottom line is the 2011 season is still in jeopardy, the owners not budging despite a Federal court deeming their lockout illegal. Hardly shocking, the players refuse to roll over into the fetal position.

Miller's involvement in the landmark case goes beyond the significance of challenging any sort of rookie salary cap. He likens his participation to being part of a larger team -- a team he just joined, a team that has 32 subparts spread across the land - and is especially concerned with the picture that won't develop until long after the rookie year is finished.

Miller is well-versed on the chronic health problem of players who came before him, their disabilities and permanent injuries and long-term brain issues that include depression and suicide ideation. He mentions them whenever someone wonders why he'd want to be part of a lawsuit before he technically has the job.

In an interview with the website Pro Players Insider, Miller said he was "in this for the guys who have come before me. I never did (it) for the notoriety. I did it to help out those guys. I think they all know I'm not the type of guy to raise trouble. I think they all know I did it for a greater purpose.

"They could've picked anybody to be part of this lawsuit. There are all kinds of guys out there with great character ... all kinds of good guys ... and they decided to pick me. I take it as a huge honor and a huge opportunity, and I just want to take advantage of it and help out my teammates."

Choosing Miller with the second overall pick offered a wide glimpse into the Broncos' future on Elway's watch. Twenty eight years after he manipulated the draft to his own liking and landed with Denver, Elway tweeted of Miller:

"We think he's the most explosive and best player in this draft."

Miller might indeed be all of that, but he's also proven he's a whole lot more.